Hell and Ecstasy
by Cola Karmon
Summary: Harry will never say no to those eyes.  Warnings for language, violence, sexual content, an abused Harry and Draco being a cruel, cruel bastard.


AN: This fic was inspired by the song "Beautiful" by The Dreaming. But I think that if you want some background music while reading, you should listen to A Perfect Circle's "Counting Bodies Like Sheep" because it fits the pace a lot better. Be forewarned, this is not a happy story and it does not have a happy ending and it is rather violent. Regardless, I hope you enjoy.

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><p>Harry dug his teeth into his bottom lip. He could already feel the tender flesh breaking from where the sharp bones were beginning to pierce from the inside of his mouth. Eyes squeezed shut and fists clenched to the point where he knew that when he eventually unfurled his fingers, they were going to ache for days. The pain that would linger meant nothing to him in that moment, when the only thing he could think about was the feeling, like his every bone shattering.<p>

Another wracking force thrust through him and Harry pulled his teeth back from the shallow gashes along his lips—once pink and soft but now marred by the odd, broken scabs left behind from the constant biting along them—and a breathless groan stumbled from his throat. He still didn't open his eyes, though. He was afraid to. Harry knew what would happen if he looked; it happened every time.

Warmth pressed into the air around his space. He could feel its close presence near his cheek, and it came in shallow pants at his ear. "Yes," the heat whispered. Another strangled moan trickled out from the cage of Harry's teeth, pinked with blood. "You know I love the music you make for me."

Harry tried to do something, anything, to put distance between himself and the pain, but it couldn't happen. Not with the angry constriction of rope around his wrists, so tight that the burlap fibers were rubbing red flesh raw, shiny with pus. Not with ten cruel fingers digging in so deeply into his hips that he was sure he could hear the bones splintering, marrow curdling out. He remembered what they looked like in the mirror. Ten black and blue lines with glimmering red crescents where the nails ripped into him. But he wouldn't look at them now.

There was another shove, this one deeper, broken out of the previously agonizing rhythm with a sudden plunge straight to Harry's insides. At that, his eyes flew open out of sheer shock, the whimpered, "Ow," escaping without thought. And before he could snap his gaze back to the blackness again, Harry was caught. He sobbed once, a pained and frustrated exhale, when he realized he couldn't go back now.

"Hmm-hmm," Draco hummed softly behind his smirk as he looked into the broken focus of Harry's wet, green eyes. "There you are, love, I knew you were hiding in there somewhere. Just needed a bit of persuasion to come play, hm?" In his remaining glimpse of sanity, Harry stared, wide-eyed, and shook his head slowly back and forth.

"Please," he rasped, his bloodless fingers gripping weakly at the air, "please, no."

"You really like that game, don't you?" Draco slid his tongue out along his bottom lip and watched Harry follow the line of saliva left there. "Why don't you stop lying," he whispered, "and tell me what you really want?"

Harry swallowed. The reflex did nothing but send another dry stroke of pain down his throat that stuck in his adam's apple. He didn't want to speak. Didn't want to answer. That question had him pinned; he was just a squirming insect tacked to a bit of cardboard, held by the needles in Draco's eyes. But like a vessel overflowing with the outpour of some blessed fountain, when he succumbed to that razor stare, Harry couldn't hold back the words that always brought about his downfall.

"You," he said, tears streaming down his face making him wince when the salty lines slid along the shallow gashes that marred his cheek. "I want you. All of you."

Draco reached up his hand, relinquishing his taloned grip on Harry's waist to caress his sticky, red fingers along a dusky-stubbled jawline. Harry took the moment to inhale deeply as he leaned into the touch, knowing that it would soon be difficult to even draw another breath. Each gasp was shaking, trembling with the confliction that staggered through his weary veins.

He held fast, gazing into Draco's eyes, and there remembering—in their frigid, steel depths—just how lovely a monster his tormenter was. So beautiful….

"Then take all of me."

The world lurched and Harry screamed with no sign of ceasing, his outcry broken at every rush that pierced him through. Draco dug his fingers as deep as they would go, crashing his hips with such force that by the end of it all, they _both_ would have black and blue blossoms to show for it.

"Merlin," he huffed, relentless in his attack. "So fucking tight…. It's heaven inside you…."

Even though Harry couldn't stop himself from sobbing aloud, he could still hear Draco's reverent whisper into the raw flesh of his overly-abused neck. Another howl of pain pulled through him when sharp teeth bit into the tender flesh there as Draco filled him.

The blond pushed in a few more shallow stabs, jaw clamping tighter and tighter around Harry's jugular until he had him shrieking in agony, begging for release. Practically purring in his satisfaction, Draco gave his victim a small compassion, tugging at the silk ribbon that had been tied at the base of Harry's neglected erection.

"Come for me," he commanded, tongue flicking out against the bite punctures he'd just made.

Harry gave one last whimper, willfully obeying before his drowning green eyes rolled back into his head and he surrendered his remaining soul to whatever mercy Fate still kept for him.

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><p>It was his own bedroom Harry found himself in when he finally realized he was alive, therefore still able to open his eyes. It took him a while to muster the courage though; he laid there beneath his comforter, shivering uncontrollably at the visions of a demon's eyes that could be waiting to ensnare him again just when he had found a moment of peace. When he finally broke free of his nightmare's last whispers, Harry remembered himself. His eyes opened.<p>

Everything felt broken. Every nerve was ragged, every bone laced with fissures, every muscle weeping and every cell of blood in his veins felt wrung and flaccid. Still, Harry willed himself out of bed. It took him a full twenty minutes to actually get to a point where he could stand without his vision blackening and his head leaving his shoulders. But he eventually stood in front of his mirror, looking over his body with deadened green eyes to take a rather detached catalogue of his wounds.

Eight gashes on his face, four narrow strips on either cheek. A neat row of indentions on his lower lip, and more on the inside of his mouth along with a tongue that had almost been bitten in two. On his neck, five hickeys sucked until blood spots prickled about them, three nasty bite marks and the purpling indentions of strangulation. A total of eleven bites on his torso (seven in the front, four in the back), and the most unbearable sensation still lingered of his nipples being practically laved off by those nails and teeth. More scratch marks over his shoulders and down his biceps, five for each. Circles about either wrist that looked like raw meat glistening with a thin layer of blood discharge. Those ten finger-shaped bruises still clawing at his hips, the cuts already scabbing over. Ripe, blue swelling that bloomed all along the tail of his spine. And just as Harry started to wonder what internal damage he had sustained, the cold feeling of fluid sliding out of him focused his attentions.

Harry reached behind himself and gathered up the dribbling mess, studying it as he smeared it between his fingers. Semen and blood. The sight of it made him realize that his insides were burning. Stretched too soon, too rough, too quickly. What he hadn't collected in his hand slithered down the length of his leg and dripped to the floor, painting Harry with a marbled mark.

He breathed, closing his eyes again.

A lesser man would've gone completely mad. A broken man would've committed suicide. A sane man would've gone to the Healers and then to the Aurors and then to the Obliviators. But Harry was none of those men, so he would not choose any of those options. Slowly, he sat down on his bed, summoned his wand and steadily began casting his regimen of healing spells.

As he healed himself, he meditated on the memories, reminding himself why.

He had lost himself the moment he looked into Draco's eyes. The first time it happened, it had been harmless, or so Harry had thought. Just two gazes that crossed in a crowd of party goers that led from hollow, jabbing comments all the way to a messy blowjob in an abandoned parlor. Then the second time it happened, at a coincidental encounter in Diagon Alley, Harry followed Draco to some hole-in-the-wall fetish club and found himself agreeing to be chained up an penetrated in a backroom. Finally, an agreed-upon third meeting at Draco's studio apartment resulted in the blond's wholehearted confession that he wanted nothing more than to destroy Harry's soul. And Harry could remember the exact words he said in the exact way he said them, snarled against Harry's face as Draco gripped him by the hair.

"_If I could but rend your body to one thousand pieces and rip at your heart until there was nothing but the strings that held it together, I would. However, I could never have you again after that. And I want the chance to destroy you as many times as I please, for as long as I will it. So why would I deny myself that delight for just one night of catharsis?"_

One look into Draco's eyes, the eyes that cruelly let out every secret, every emotion and memory, and Harry could never say no to what was asked of him. Not when he wanted everything that Draco's eyes offered him. Harry wanted all of Draco. And if Harry could get what he wanted—anything, everything—he would never regret giving Draco everything _he_ wanted.

-_Finite-_


End file.
